


8x04

by asherkoyal



Category: A Song of Ice and Fire & Related Fandoms, Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-05-15
Updated: 2019-05-16
Packaged: 2020-03-05 19:27:47
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 2,720
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18835210
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/asherkoyal/pseuds/asherkoyal
Summary: A take on 8x04





	1. Fire

**Author's Note:**

> so i cried while writing this. cool. cool.

He stares into the burning flames as if they were the most interesting thing in the world. But he knew they most certainly were not, he knew the women currently laying naked in the bed behind him was the most intriguing being in his known world. The sounds of the crackling blaze gave off a sense home in his mind, as well as casting a deep orange hue around the otherwise darkened room, the light falling ever so beautifully upon his lady’s face.

Glancing over his shoulder, he watched her bare chest rise and fall slowly with every breath she took. She almost looked at peace while she slept, with her hair slightly a mess and one of her arms thrown above her head which was cocked to the side. He never wanted to look away from her, he could have stayed in this moment forever, gazing over her sleeping figure and admiring every inch of her body.

But as the thousand and one thoughts sprinted through his mind, he knew he couldn’t stay. He could not observe her forever, no matter how much he wanted to. _What am I doing?_ He thinks. _Do I love her? Does she love me? I must leave._ He doesn’t move. He turns back to the now dimming fire, facing away from the woman that he must inevitably leave as he cannot bear to look at her any longer without suppressing the tears that are brimmed at his eyes.

He stares into the fire, stares so hard as if he was looking for the answer to all his problems in the blaze of the orange flames. Wiping away a tear that had escaped his eye, he gathers as much courage as he can and slowly rises from the wooden chair, careful not to stir his resting beauty. With every step he takes towards the door, he can feel a sharp pain in his chest. More tears are slipping out of his eyes the closer he gets to the giant wooden door, with the tears in his eyes he can barely see the door handle as he reaches his exit.

His one hand on the door handle, he foolishly turns his head to have one last look at everything that he is about to lose, everything that he could’ve had, his new beginning. He opens the door and steps through into the darkened hallway and closes the door with such haste, as if had he done it any slower he would’ve stayed in the room, shed his clothing, and climb back into bed. Letting out a shaky breath, he makes his way down to the courtyard, every step he takes, he feels a small piece of him die and wither away into nothingness. But still he continues to place one foot in front of the other leading him towards an inescapable fate.


	2. Decision

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> basically where jaime is ready to yeet outta there  
> just in more depth

As he readies his horse, he notices his only hand shaking as he tightens the straps on his saddle, and he fully knows that the shaking is not because of the cold of Winterfell. Hand closed over the strap, he pauses and takes a deep breath. He knows what he’s leaving behind, he knows that he can’t come back after he steps out of those Winterfell gates. Still, he continues to ready his horse but now he doesn’t restrain his tears, he lets them fall down his cold face and doesn’t wipe them away.

Tightening the straps as best he could, he stood back from the horse. Arms hanging loosely by his sides not willing to move any more. Slowly, and painfully, he puts what minimal supplies he has gathered into a small pouch on the side of the horse. And then he hears it. The shuffling of feet against snow, the quiet chattering of ones teeth, and the sniffles of a person who is either cold or has been crying. He hoped it hadn’t been the latter.

He does not turn around. He knows exactly who has come down to the courtyard at this time of the night, or perhaps it was the early hours of the morning. He had lost track of time. He still hasn’t turned around, and he knows that she is closer now as he can hear her teeth clattering more clearly now. Tears are threatening to spill from his eyes, but he doesn’t let them. Not in front of her. He pretends to continue strapping the horse when she breaks the eyrie silence.

“They’re going to destroy that city. You know they will.” She says, wholeheartedly knowing where he intends to go.

“Have you ever run away from a fight?” The words come out before he even registers that he’s saying them but he regrets the words as soon he realised what he’s said. He knows it’s a petty move, to pit her loyalty and bravery against her own argument only to fulfil his own. And yet, he still has not looked at her.

His words definitely click something within her as now she moves with great speed and force towards him. Before he can even register what she is doing, there are two great hands on either side of his face, fully cupping his cheeks, and forcing his head to acknowledge the beast of a woman that now stood merely less than a foot away from him. His head, now facing her but his eyes looking down to the white covered ground.

“You’re not like your sister,” She now has his full attention, his eyes hesitantly meeting her own. Oh, how he could drown in her eyes. “You’re not.” She is now softly shaking his head with her own hands, as if to shake him out of his daze that he is so obviously stuck in.

He wishes that he could believe her. He really does. He wants to be the man she believes him to be, the man that he wants to be. He desperately wants to be that man. But he believes that he can’t ever be a man like that. Not while the other half of him is still breathing oxygen through her lungs.

“You’re better than she is,” Another statement that he has trouble believing. “You’re a good man and you can’t save her.” He can hear the break in her voice. He can hear the start of a desperate plea. But even with the amount of emotion within him and even being displayed by the woman in front of him, he does not let any of the tears in his eyes slip out. He only stares into her wide eyes, desperately trying to show her that he doesn’t want to leave her.

“You don’t need to die with her.” At this, he feels his world slow down. At this moment, he is just staring into her soul, seeing everything that she feels and everything that she isn’t saying. At this moment, he feels as if he could melt into her hands that are still cupping his cheeks.

He wished he could say something to her. Tell her that he regrets leaving that bed, that he had been a fool acting as such. He wants to fall to his knees and let her know that he is profoundly sorry and that he will spend the rest of his life trying to make amends for what he had tried to just do. But he doesn’t do any of these things. He just stands there and does nothing, nothing at all. He knows that his eyes betray him. He’s always had that weakness against him. He can say one thing, but mean the complete opposite. Like now, he is ready to leave Winterfell, yet his eyes are yelling at anyone who will look at him that he doesn’t want to leave.

“Stay here.” He sees her bottom lip wobble.

“Stay with me.” He can hear her voice break, again.

“Please.” He can feel her trembling hands on his face grasping him even harder.

“Stay.” That last word almost a whisper. He almost let out a sob when the last letter of the word came out of her mouth.

He feels as though he is going to vomit. He feels sick to his stomach watching her face full of heartbreak and pain. Heartbreak and pain that he is causing. He almost lets his own tears fall out of his eyes, matching the ones already rolling down her cheek. Oh how we wishes he could kiss those tears off of her cheek, kiss her mouth just to stop it trembling with heartache, kiss her heart to repair the damage that he has provoked.

He had a decision to make. To break her down so terribly that there is no way for him to repair any kind of relationship with her, or return to her and set off with that new life that he had seen whenever they had laid together. A decision that to any other man in this castle would believe easy. But to him, it was quite literally a life or death situation. To return to her selfishly, or to die with the chance of saving thousands of innocent people. A decision he may live to regret, or die to fulfil.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> depending on my mood, the next part will either be AU or an analysis.


	3. Jaime. Brienne.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> he's decided.

Casting his eyes downward, he can still feel her strong yet gentle hands on his face. He does not want to say these words that will come out of his mouth. He can taste the vulgarity of such lies that are yet to come out of his dry and numb mouth. He doesn’t want to say them, of course he doesn’t. What he wants he cannot have, he can never have. He slowly and carefully brings up his only remaining hand and gently wraps his gloved hand around one of her wrists, gently caressing her skin with his thumb. He strokes her wrist with his finger as tenderly as he can, all the while still not looking at her face. If he could, he would stay in this moment forever. Just him and his knight standing in the cold, just bathing in each other’s presence.

Slowly, he half-heartedly directs his eyes upward to see her face, tears continuing to fall gracefully down her now reddened cheeks. He felt as if he could faint just by the look she had on her face. He could see the obvious pain in her eyes, but he could also see the disappointment that poorly masked itself in her eyebrows and the little cleft in her chin was more apparent than ever. It was poor of him to think, but he thought that in all her grief and all of that agony on her face, he thought that she looked miserably beautiful; especially in the low lit night, the moon’s glow illuminating the features he rarely sees in the day light.

Tentatively, he grasps her wrist a little more firmly and starts to bring her hand away from his cheek. Instantly missing the warmth that she provided his now chilling face.

“You think I’m a good man.” He says softly, already regretting the words that haven’t escaped his mouth yet.

“I pushed a boy out of a window. Crippled him for life,” He pauses before speaking the next two words he won’t be able to take back, “For Cersei.” The tears in his eyes are evident, and he knows she can see how they threaten to leave his eyes.

“I strangled my cousin, with my own hands. Just to get back to Cersei.” His eyebrows mirroring hers, indented and trembling at the same time. He can feel the bile building up in his stomach.

“I would have murdered every man, woman and child in Riverrun, for Cersei.” He softly speaks. The venom that he had intended to come out with the sentence falling short of anger. What he doesn’t add at the end of that sentence was the undeniable truth, _“But I didn’t. For you.”_ But he knew he couldn’t say that. It would only be a step in the wrong direction.

As he observes her face, there is no disgust; which is exactly what he thought he would see from his beast’s face. But there was no hint of repulsion or distaste, which was what he would rather see than what he detects now. He sees pity, sorrow, and disappointment. This, he thinks, is worse than disgust. As he stares at her in silence, she lets out a loud sob. The kind of sob that is too hard to suppress. The kind of sob that can kill a man. Which is exactly what it did to him. It killed every bit of humanity inside himself that he had left, and at this point he didn’t have much.

His ’uncaring’ exterior broke for no more than a few seconds. But for those mere seconds, she could see everything that he wasn’t saying. She could feel everything that he felt in those few seconds of realism. And with this she felt even more grief-stricken than before. He quickly, but obviously not quick enough, put on a blank face and deeply breathed in; holding his breath for a split second, he releases a shaky breath.

“She’s hateful,” This she could not argue with, “and so am I.” He says with conviction, as he truly believes he is a hateful and disgusting man.

With this, he turns back to finish putting the scarce supplies in the little pouch on the side of the horse. Not seeing, but most definitely hearing, her break her strong exterior as she now sobs so loud, he thinks she might wake some nearby guests or groundsmen. He can’t see her, but that doesn’t make any of his actions hurt any less; if anything, by the sounds that she is making now, it might as well be the sound of her heart breaking into thousands of pieces. He is sure that they would sound exactly the same.

Climbing on top of his horse, and positioning himself so that he is ready to ride off into the night, he can hear her muttering something over and over again in between sobs. He knows he shouldn’t, but he strains his ears to try and hear what she is saying. Pretending to adjust himself on top of the horse, what he hears is simply something he had not expected to hear anyone say. Especially from the woman who he had just metaphorically thrown into a pile of sheep shift.

“Please, please don’t. Please. I…love….you.” She mutters under her breath; yet it is unknown to him whether or nt he was supposed to hear such a confession. She muttered between each deep sob.

He wasn’t sure if he’d heard her right. He’s almost certain he hadn’t heard correctly. Because who would love someone after they broke another’s heart? He thought it would be almost impossible for someone like her to love someone like him. Someone so pure and loyal, and so innocent. Loving another who was disloyal, broken and oath breaking. He was certain he had imagined her words, he only heard what he wanted to hear.

And with his mind made up that she could never love a man like him, he grasped the reign in his good hand, and kicked his horse into the darkness of the night. Riding his way out of the gates of Winterfell, and towards his imminent death in the depths of Kings Landing. He did not see the tall blonde woman fall to her knees in despair, he did not see every single emotion pour out of her in that moment as the snow soaked into the thin cloak she had wrapped around her naked body. All he could hear was her loud wailing and every sob that made him flinch, even outside the Winterfell walls.

But there was something that even she couldn’t hear, or see. She couldn’t hear his own sobs. She couldn’t hear his own emotion spilling out of every pore. She couldn’t hear him mutter under his breath, “I’m doing this for you.” She couldn’t see his heart disintegrating, the ashes floating around the cold atmosphere. She couldn’t see that he was hurting, just as much as she was.

The words that come out of both of their mouths were different words, same meaning, same heartbreak.

“Jaime.”

“Brienne.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> would appreciate feedback.


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